Half Dragons
by AtHD
Summary: Five hundred thousand years ago, a fifth sentient species inhabited Alagaesia. They were called the Haal'Draenoc in their own tongue, half dragons in ours. Rated M for violence, some disturbing imagery, explicit content, and, of course, language.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One - Chapter One: Never At Peace**

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**I told you I'd be back! **A lot of you are probably gone, but new readers will likely take your place. This time, I'm avoiding mistakes and taking it easy. It will be more fun for me to write and, hopefully, for you to read.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the Inheritance Cycle, that abomination of a movie wouldn't exist. So no, I am not Christopher Paolini.

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The Fire, the terrible, merciless flames. They engulfed everything he once knew. Arya, Orik, Murtagh, Thorn, Nasuada, Roran, Katrina, _everyone_. He would come so close_, so damn close to saving them_. Just as his arm stretched to grab them, to pull them from a painful death, the fire took them. He would watch helplessly as they screamed in pain, their once familiar faces being mutilated by the inferno.

The water, the terrible, merciless waves. They engulfed everything she once knew. Orik, Murtagh, Thorn, Nasuada, Roran, Katrina, Firnen, _everyone_. She would come so close, so damn close to saving them. Just as her forelegs stretched to grab them, to pull them from a painful death, the waves crashed down on them. She would watch helplessly as they gasped for air, only to find their lungs filling with liquid.

This left only the two survivors, the two who failed to save their friends. The rider, Eragon Bromsson, and the dragon, Saphira Brightscales. The dragon looked to her rider, finding a young man, broken by the weight of his failure. She too was in terrible as well, wanting nothing more than to join the lost ones in the depths of the sea.

"No," whispered an ancient voice to the dragon and her rider, "it is not your time yet."

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Eragon was the first to wake, his body drenched in cold sweat and his eyes full of tears. Beside him lay Brisingr, his brightsteel sword. He clutched it instinctually, rubbing its hilt as if it was the only thing keeping him sane.

To his other side was Saphira, who was now beginning to stir. She was breathing heavily, distress clearly visible in her expression. She looked to Eragon, sad to see that he was in an even worse state than her.

_Dreams again? _asked Saphira, to which the young rider nodded grimly.

"You as well?" he whispered, unable to speak normally. Her head bobbed lightly in affirmation. "Damn the war, it's taken our only chance at inner peace."

_It will get better one day, little one,_ mused Saphira, her mood brightening slightly, more for her sake than Eragon's.

"Saphira, it's been five hundred years," he exclaimed, "if the dreams haven't stopped yet, I doubt they'll ever go away." Saphira huffed in irritation to his uncharacteristic pessimism, and looked to the window of their chamber.

_It would appear that the sun has risen,_ she thought._ Shall we see what the events of the day are?_ Eragon nodded, already up and getting dressed. His appearance had changed slightly over the centuries, the most notable difference being a pointed goatee. He may have been five centuries old, but his body remained that of a man midway through his third decade.

His outfit was rather plain, fitting for a man of his origin. Black trousers, a grey shirt, black boots, and a dark-grey cloak were all he wore when he was not training with the younger riders. He still carried Brisingr and light wards at all times, but didn't bother with armor.

The two exited their humble home, and entered the bustling streets of Aidaiel, The Morning Star. It had taken two hundred years, but the city was now marvelously built and populated with riders, dragons, and their families. Different sections of the city were built to be more comfortable to the different races. The Human Quarter was more compact, composed with small houses and apartments. The Elven Quarter was actually a natural forest surrounded by a great wall. The Dwarven Quarter was small on the surface, but rested atop hundreds of miles of underground tunnels and complexes. Finally, the Urgal Quarter was really one massive camp, its residents living in huge tents. The races were not restricted to their respective quarter, but most chose to to remain.

Honestly, the riders and bonded dragons were the minority in Aidaiel. It was mostly the families of the riders who kept the city running. It was not a problem, of course; every citizen was devoted to the Order.

As they walked down the large (for the sake of dragons who preferred walking) street, they saw many people. The diversity in the city was immense; nowhere else in the world would you find an everyday conversation consisting of an Urgal, and Elf, and a Dwarf. It was amazing how well the people got along.

Ah, the board. There were several of these around the city, always within walking distance for the non-riders. They were posted with the events of the day, and any important training sessions or lessons for riders. Today, the gates would be open for exploration and hunting, but. However, without telling why, the Eldunari demanded that _no one_ travel beyond the forest. They refused to tell even Eragon, the leader of the Order. It was infuriating, but the man respected his masters' wishes.

_Hmm_, hummed Saphira, _hunting and exploration?_ She looked to her rider, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Shall we?" asked Eragon, to which the blue dragon nodded enthusiastically. He chuckled; five hundred years old and still sometimes acting like a pup. She reminded him of, well, him. This was to be expected, they were extremely close.

He climbed onto her back, which already had a saddle. With a roar, Saphira leapt to the air, flapping her wings for a mighty boost. In mete seconds, they were in the sky, looking down on the village.

_Do you remember when we discovered that the Earth was a sphere_, she asked.

_Of course, _he responded,_ how could I forget?_

_And you asked if we might, one day, have the power to travel to the moon?_

_Indeed, but not today. That is an adventure for the people of the future, I think._ With that, the plunged down into the forest. They spent the day traversing the massive wood, until they reached its border.

_I've always wondered what lies beyond these trees, _mused Eragon._ The Eldunari must be terribly afraid of it if they'll not even tell us what it is._

_What say we find out_, asked Saphira, her adventurous side flowing through he thoughts.

_Is that wise, _asked Eragon. The elders will not be pleased, to say the least.

_They don't need to know, _she responded. _We have enough experience to hide a small lie. _Fueled by her spirit, as well as his own intense curiosity, Eragon reluctantly agreed.

They had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

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**So,** what do you think of my first chapter. I'd say I'm getting better at this, no? Don't be afraid to drop a review, or even just a short comment!


	2. Chapter 2

**New Allies and New Problems**

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A loud roar was all Eragon could hear. It echoed through his mind, not fading, only getting louder. His body ached, and he could see nothing. He could not feel Saphira, nor could he sense his surroundings at all. It was like being a beast trapped in a cage; there was no way out, or at least none that he could feel.

Suddenly, the roaring began to subside, replaced by muffled voices. At first, they were completely unintelligible. However, as time passed, they became clearer. One was a man, the other a woman. They sounded worried, and rushed. As if attending to something very urgent.

After what felt like hours, all of Eragon's senses came flooding back. Starting with his senses of smell and taste, which picked up strong mixes of herbs and mixtures in the air. Then, touch, which let him feel the soft cot beneath him. Finally, sight and hearing, which allowed him to see and listen to the conversation before him, and those who were speaking.

Two reptilian creatures stood above him, the like of which he had never seen before. They had the bodies of a human, more or less. One was obviously a male, the other a female. Their overall body structure, from the arms and legs to the bodyshape difference between man and woman, was much like an elf or human. However, they were also _very_ different.

First of all, their faces. They were almost the exact shape of a dragon's head, but more angular. They had sharp teeth, forked tongues, and vibrant eyes. Like a dragon, thay had small scales over their skin. Unlike dragons, they had humanlike hair. The woman had long, braided hair, and the man had hair that fell to his shoulders.

Besides the face, their bodies were like an odd hybrid of man and dragon. Again, they had the same structure as a human, but with the notable features of a dragon. This included large wings, tails, scales on the exposed flesh, and claws. The female's skin was a deep blue, and the male's was grey.

"Damn it, Kara," exclaimed the older-looking man, "she will not survive without it!"

"It has been millennia since I treated one of her kind!" countered the very old woman. "I cannot guarantee the effectiveness of the medicine, and it will likely change her."

"Gölvayo!" shouted the man, wings flaring. "I do not care if you are unsure! The blüdrahen will not take another life this day!" The air seemed to become hotter as he said this, and his eyes turned from gold to orange.

"Calm, Ardan. He is awake." As she said this, the man turned towards Eragon, his anger subsiding.

"Kara, check on the dragon," he ordered. With a humble bow of the head, the old woman left the room. Ardan, as she called him, stepped towards Eragon with long, drawn out steps.

"Greetings, young rider," said the man, offering a hand. Eragon gingerly took it and was pulled to a sitting position.

"Saphira," gasped the rider, noticing that he could not feel her thoughts, "where has she gone?"

"Your partner in soul has... it is better that you see, rather than hear." With those words, Eragon's heart dropped. He begged any gods to let her be alive. He knew that, without her, he would surely die.

As Eragon stood, he surveyed the room. Various vials, glasses, and ingredients surrounded him, from spices to unknown items. The aromas emanating from the mixtures were very strong, but pleasant

They left the room, and began waliing down a long hall. Several doors were placed seemingly randomly, each with different purposes. Behind many doors were what Eragon assumed to be classes for young ladies to learn alchemy. Many young girls ran through the hallway, carrying both ingredients and elixirs.

Had he not been so worried about Saphira, Eragon would be fascinated. These people were like nothing he'd ever seen before.

As he examined his hosts, he lost track of how long he'd been walking. Suddenly, he hit a wall, his face taking the brunt of the collision. Ardan couldn't help but let out a light chuckle, before motioning to the closest door.

"She is in here," he said. "But, before I let you in, i must ask something."

"What?" asked Eragon.

"What is the last thing you remember? The people who attacked you gave you a small dose of poison meant to destroy memories." Eragon was taken aback by this. Why would someone do such a thing?

"I-I remember entering the woods with Saphira to explore the surrounding area. We walked for a few minutes and... and... damn it, I can't remember anything after that. Why would they use a poison like that?"

"They use it to bolster their ranks. Anyone unlucky enough to be attacked is poisoned, reverted to having the mind of a mere child. Then, they are 'raised' again as a killing machine."

"That's horrible! Who would do such a thing?"

"They are called-" before Ardan could say more, a violent roar came from behind the door. After a moment, it faded into a whimper. Eragon felt, just barely, Saphira's mind brush against his mometarily. That, of everything that had happened, terrified him the most.

Suddenly, he was in the room with Saphira. He had no memory of passing Ardan, opening the door, or approaching the dragon, but he didn't care. All he saw was his other half in pain, which was enough to sharpen his perception to one single thought.

_Absolute terror._

He had seen her in pain before, had seen her nearly die before, but this was different. There was something about her... aura, that disturbed him greatly.

"Black magic," said a very old, female voice from behind. Eragon jumped slightly and turned to see the same woman who was in the other room.

"What has been done to her?" asked Eragon, fear prominent in his voice.

"She was attacked by mages," explained the woman, Kara, as she had been called. "They used a spell to subdue her, but the incantation was mispronounced." Eragon einced slightly, he memory of Elva still perfectly clear.

"So, instead of just knocking her unconcoious, they placed a lingering spell on her that is sucking the life from her body." This thought terrified Eragon. She was going to die, because he hadn't been strong enough to save her.

"Is there anything that can be done?" asked Eragon, almost begging for a positive response.

"No medicine I know of can heal her, but one spell can. One very dangerous spell."

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**That** cliffhanger's for all the bitchy messages. I don't owe you shit. I didn't HAV to write this at all, but I did.

So deal with that fact that life can get in the way of writing. And my life had been particularly interruptive as of late.


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